


Peter Quill, Vampire Slayer

by draculard



Category: Fright Night (1985), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Vampire aliens, Vampire concubine Peter Vincent, crack ships, mild action violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Peter boards a vampire-infested spaceship on his own and finds a rather attractive captive hidden away in a vampire's bedroom.





	Peter Quill, Vampire Slayer

**Author's Note:**

> This was a kink meme fill over on Dreamwidth and I want you all to know that this is 100% Roddy McDowall as Peter Vincent, not David Tennant.

“Oh, shit, man,” Peter said as his blaster took out the pale, sickly-looking alien in front of him. “These guys are fucking _vampires_!”

He dodged under a blow from one of the aliens, danced over the body of a blood-drained human corpse, and took out two aliens with one blast from his gun. Rocket had just upgraded the thing so it could vaporize biological forms with a burst of white-hot light, which was turning out to be awfully handy, considering his current enemy.

“How do vampires end up in space?” Peter wondered aloud, taking out the last alien in the room. God, he wished the gang was here to see this. They’d never believe him.

He made his way out of the now-empty air-lock and hurried down the halls as quietly as he could. The whole ship smelled like musty dirt and blood, which gave Peter major Black Sabbath vibes. He ducked around a doorway and raised his blaster, vaporizing another vampire alien with one blow. As the dust settled, Peter realized he was standing in some sort of vampiric bedroom/dungeon.

And there was someone in the bed -- someone who looked completely human, who was clutching the blankets to his bare chest and blinking owlishly at Peter. After a moment, the human startled and held his hands up in surrender, letting the blankets drop back down to his waist.

“Don’t shoot!” said the human. “I’m an actor!”

Peter sheathed his blaster and stepped forward, slamming his hand on the door controls so no one could sneak up on him. “Are you a captive?” he asked, scanning the room for more lifeforms.

“Er, yes,” said the human. He tentatively put his hands down. “Yes, I am. They -- the vampires, that is--”

“Oh, holy shit!” Peter exclaimed, putting both hands on top of his head in glee. “They really are vampires?”

The human gave him a doubtful look. “It would appear so.”

“Like, Dracula vampires?” Peter asked, stepping closer. “Suck blood and bang vampire chicks, that kind of vampires?”

“Sans the vampire _chicks_ , I suppose,” said the human dryly. He looked down at his bare chest pointedly, and Peter’s cheeks heated up as he caught the human’s drift.

“Aw, shit man, I’m sorry,” he said. “I mean, nobody deserves to be a vampire concubine. Unless that’s their thing, I guess. Is that --” He leaned back and narrowed his eyes at the bed. “Is that a coffin-shaped bed?”

The human swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood in one elegant motion, keeping the blankets wrapped around his waist. He reached past Peter for a discarded dressing gown.

“I’m Peter Quill, by the way,” Peter said belatedly, holding out his hand for a handshake. “My friends call me Starlord.”

The human raised an eyebrow at him and carefully put his dressing gown without removing the blanket, a complex ritual which impressed Peter greatly. When he was done, he shook Peter’s hand briskly.

“Peter Vincent,” he said. Peter’s eyebrows went up.

“Oh, cool, another Peter,” he said. “I’m meeting, like, a weird amount of those lately.”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Vincent. He stepped away from Peter to eye the mound of dust on the floor which used to be a vampire. “Well, you have my sincere gratitude for the rescue. I’m unaccustomed to playing the damsel in distress.”

“Yeah?” said Peter. He studied the pile of dust too for a moment, nudging through it with his toe until he caught the appalled look on Mr. Vincent’s face. “You said you were an actor? How’s an actor get caught up in an alien vampire spaceship?”

Mr. Vincent sighed and ran a long-fingered hand through his snowy white hair. “For many years,” he said, “I portrayed a vampire hunter in film and television. I would hazard a guess that this -- this vampiric alien race mistook my work for nonfiction and targeted me as a result.”

Peter looked Mr. Vincent up and down. “Yeah, I can see you as an old-timey actor, I guess,” he said. Mr. Vincent had the poise and semi-British stuffiness Peter had seen in tons of old movies. He unholstered his blaster and used it to gesture at the door. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Vincent.

“Then take this,” said Peter, tossing Mr. Vincent his other, less-cool blaster. “Head-shots only with that one,” he said. “It won’t vaporize anyone, but it’ll leave a nice stain on the wall.”

They ducked out of the bedroom, Mr. Vincent’s dressing gown flapping around his ankles, blasters raised. There was no one waiting in the hall, but as they progressed through the ship, they encountered the vampiric aliens, clustered in small groups at a time.

Mr. Vincent proved skilled enough with a blaster. After one or two false starts, hitting the vampires in the chest or arm, he made the head-shot every time, spraying vampire blood over both himself and Peter.

“Aw man,” Peter said, wiping the blood out of his eyes just in time to vaporize a vampire lunging for Mr. Vincent. “Dude, don’t shoot ‘em when I’m standing right behind them, that’s not cool.”

“Noted,” said Mr. Vincent. With a grimace, he went into a crouch to get beneath a vampire who was charging him and shot them from below. His position caused his dressed gown to flare open, presenting Peter with a nice, brief image of Mr. Vincent’s muscular thighs.

Mr. Vincent shot another vampire and glanced up, catching Peter staring. His lips curled into a tight smile.

“I must say, I prefer this to a wooden stake,” he quipped, gesturing with his blaster. Peter barked out a laugh and pointed his own blaster, turning the last vampire in the room into a fine sheen of dust shimmering in the air. By now, the room was covered in blood and ashes, and there were streaks of both on Peter’s skin and marring Mr. Vincent’s dressing gown.

“Well, my ship’s that way,” Peter said, pointing back down the hall, toward the hangar where his ship was docked. “You wanna come with, or you wanna commandeer this bad boy for yourself?”

Mr. Vincent glanced around the vampire spaceship with an expression of deep disdain. “I’ll accompany you, if it’s all the same,” he said. Irrationally pleased, Peter led the way back down the hall, stepping around piles of dust and bloody corpses along the way. Mr. Vincent walked alongside him in companionable silence, his attention seemingly focused on picking every last speck of dust off his dressing gown.

“You know,” Peter said eventually, unable to stand the silence, “I didn’t expect to rescue anyone from vampires today.”

Mr. Vincent gave a slight smile. “Nor did I anticipate such a handsome rescuer,” he said. Peter stumbled, his heart skipping a beat at those words, and he looked around at Mr. Vincent, who avoided his gaze. There was a slight smile on Mr. Vincent’s lips -- a slight smile, and a speck of dried vampire blood.

Taking a deep breath, Peter grabbed Mr. Vincent’s arm, forcing him to come to a halt. Peter tried to act casual and suave as he reached up, rubbing the blood off Mr. Vincent’s lip gently. From the amused look on Mr. Vincent’s face, Peter guessed he didn’t quite achieve the effect he was going for. With his thumb resting just underneath Mr. Vincent’s bottom lip, Peter hesitated, unsure what to do next.

“Go on,” said Mr. Vincent softly, startling Peter. “Kiss me. I can handle it.”

Peter nodded. He closed the gap between them. The kiss was gentle and chaste, Mr. Vincent’s lips soft and warm. Silently, Mr. Vincent reached up and threaded his fingers through Peter’s messy hair, his nails scratching ever-so-slightly at Peter’s scalp. When they broke away, Peter avoided Mr. Vincent’s eyes, his cheeks flushed.

“Well,” he said nervously. “Well, uh -- the ship’s this way.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Vincent, amused. “Yes, you’ve said that already.”

Peter’s blush deepened, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling.  “It’s just a shuttle,” he warned Mr. Vincent as they approached the hangar. “There’s, uh, not much room. We might have to sit pretty close.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” said Mr. Vincent. As they stepped through the shuttle door, their hands brushed, and Mr. Vincent’s fingers gripped Peter’s with a soft squeeze. They made eye contact, and after a moment the warmth and affection in Mr. Vincent’s gaze sparked wild energy in Peter’s.

“Hell, yeah,” he said emphatically, turning away to switch the shuttle on. He banged his hand against the dashboard. “I rescued a motherfucking vampire concubine today! Drax is gonna _shit!_ ”


End file.
